Beautiful Sin - Chapter 26
Spicy BL/MM/GAY Stepbrother Reverse Harem Romance
Haru
I glanced toward the master suite and felt my stomach flipped. This would be the second time I’d share a bed with Aiden. The first time had ended with... well, with activities that still made me blush when I thought about them too hard. Which was approximately every five minutes.
“Dibs on the second bathroom!” Mason called, already heading down the hallway. “Isaac, try not to eat all the desserts before I get back!”
“No promises!” Isaac shouted back, already opening the first box with the reverence usually reserved for religious artifacts.
Fifteen minutes later, I emerged in shorts and an old t-shirt that had seen better days, my hair still damp from the shower. The suite had transformed in my absence. Noah, freshly showered and changed into what appeared to be designer loungewear (because of course he couldn’t just wear normal sweatpants like the rest of humanity), had commandeered the TV remote and was scrolling through movie options.
Mason had claimed one end of the largest couch, dressed in sleep pants and a fitted t-shirt that somehow made him look like he was posing for a loungewear catalog. Reo was mixing drinks at the wet bar, apparently our suite came with a fully stocked bar—because why wouldn’t it?
“Perfect timing,” Mason called, patting the spot next to him. “We’re about to start a movie.”
“Actually, I’m pretty tired,” I said, stifling a yawn that wasn’t entirely fake. The combination of travel, food coma, and general social exhaustion was catching up with me. “I might just head to bed.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Noah’s thumb paused over the remote, his eyes narrowing slightly. Mason’s casual smile froze in place. Even Reo glanced up from his mixology project with sudden interest.
“On your first night in Vegas?” Mason asked, his tone suggesting I’d just proposed something truly outrageous. “That’s practically illegal.”
“It’s just a different city,” I pointed out reasonably. “With the same sky and same concept of time zones. My body doesn’t know it’s in Vegas; it just knows it’s tired.”
“But I haven’t shown you my new game yet!” Isaac protested, emerging from his room with an armful of gaming equipment. His hair was sticking up in every direction, presumably from a hasty towel-dry. “It’s got this awesome co-op mode where we can team up against zombie dragons. ZOMBIE DRAGONS, Haru!”
“Zombie... dragons?” I repeated weakly.
“They breathe toxic fire and have these cool decomposing wings,” Isaac continued enthusiastically, already setting up his console. “And there’s this one boss that has like, three heads, and each one does a different elemental attack—”
“We’re watching a movie first,” Noah interrupted. “Something everyone can enjoy.”
“We could do both,” Mason suggested, his smile returning. “Movie first, then gaming. We’re in Vegas—sleeping is practically optional.”
“Maybe for you,” I muttered, but my protest was drowned out by Isaac’s whoops of agreement.
The bathroom door to the master suite opened, and Aiden emerged in a cloud of steam, wearing silk pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt that somehow made him look like he belonged in a luxury sleepwear advertisement. His hair was still damp, a few strands falling across his forehead in a way that made my mouth go dry.
Our eyes met across the room, and something unspoken passed between us—some current of electricity that made my heart stutter in my chest. I quickly looked away, suddenly fascinated by the carpet pattern.
“What’s all the commotion?” Aiden asked, surveying the living room that had transformed into Entertainment Central in his absence.
“Movie night!” Isaac announced, bouncing on the couch like an excited puppy. “Then gaming. Then maybe more movies. Then definitely more dessert. Vegas, baby!”
“Sounds... exhausting,” Aiden commented, his eyes finding mine again. “Don’t forget some of us have actual work in the morning.”
“All the more reason to enjoy tonight,” Mason countered, patting the spot next to him again with more insistence. “Come on, Haru. One movie won’t kill you.”
“Plus I made drinks,” Reo added, approaching with a tray of suspiciously colorful concoctions. “Virgin for the baby brother, of course.”
“I’m nineteen, not nine,” I grumbled, but accepted the mocktail anyway. It was easier than arguing, and besides, it did look pretty good—something blue and sparkly with a ridiculous amount of fruit on top.
“You can head to bed whenever you want,” Aiden told me quietly as he passed by to get his own drink. “Don’t let them pressure you.”
His concern warmed something in my chest, but it also made me acutely aware of the others watching our interaction with varying degrees of subtlety. Noah had positioned himself between me and the hallway to the bedrooms, his posture seemingly casual but his eyes tracking my every move. Mason had somehow scooted closer on the couch, his arm stretched along the back in a way that would trap me between him and the armrest if I sat down.
What was going on with everyone tonight?
“One movie,” I conceded, sinking onto the couch but deliberately choosing a spot away from Mason. “But I reserve the right to fall asleep halfway through.”
“Deal!” Isaac declared, diving for the spot next to me with enthusiasm that nearly spilled my drink. “We’re watching ‘Galactic Mayhem 3’! It’s got explosions and cool aliens and this awesome scene where—”
“We are not watching another one of your sci-fi disaster movies,” Noah cut in, scrolling through the options. “Something with actual plot and character development would be nice.”
“Oh, you mean one of your boring historical dramas where everyone whispers and nothing happens for three hours?” Isaac shot back.
“How about a compromise?” Aiden suggested, taking a seat in the armchair that gave him a clear view of both the TV and me. “Action with an actual plot?”
Twenty minutes and several heated debates later, we settled on a movie that allegedly satisfied everyone’s criteria—though Noah still looked disgruntled about the lack of “cinematic integrity,” whatever that meant. I sipped my mocktail, which was actually delicious despite its ridiculous appearance, and tried to focus on the opening scenes.
My eyelids, however, had other ideas. The day’s exhaustion was catching up with me faster than I’d anticipated. The couch was sinfully comfortable, the lights had been dimmed, and Isaac’s warm weight next to me as he provided enthusiastic commentary was oddly soothing.
I must have dozed off briefly, because I jolted awake to find the movie much further along than I remembered. Isaac had migrated to the floor, surrounded by gaming controllers he was organizing. Mason had somehow ended up much closer, his thigh now pressed against mine.
“Falling asleep already?” he teased, his voice lower than necessary given the explosion sequence happening on screen.
“No,” I lied, straightening up and discreetly wiping my mouth in case I’d been drooling. “Just resting my eyes between explosions.”
“Sure you were.” His smile was knowing, his shoulder bumping mine playfully. “You missed the best part where the hero had to defuse a bomb while hanging upside down from a helicopter.”
“Sounds physically improbable,” I muttered, trying to regain my bearings.
Across the room, Aiden checked his phone with a small frown. “I should turn in,” he announced, standing up. “Early meeting tomorrow.”
Our eyes met again, and something in his expression made my heart race. Was he expecting me to go with him? Was I supposed to follow? The thought of walking into that bedroom together, with everyone watching, made my face heat up faster than a microwave burrito.
“Oh, come on!” Isaac protested. “The movie’s not even over yet! And we haven’t started gaming!”
“Some of us have responsibilities,” Aiden replied, but his eyes were still on me, questioning. Waiting.
“Haru promised to try my new game,” Isaac declared, grabbing my arm with surprising strength for someone who considered lifting anything heavier than a gaming controller to be excessive exercise. “You can’t bail on zombie dragons!”
“I, uh—” I glanced between Isaac’s pleading expression and Aiden’s unreadable one, feeling oddly trapped. “Maybe just for a little while? Since I promised?”
Something flickered across Aiden’s face—disappointment? Relief? I couldn’t tell. “Don’t stay up too late,” he said finally, his tone neutral. “Goodnight, everyone.”
“Night,” came the chorus of replies, though I noticed Noah and Mason seemed unusually cheerful about Aiden’s departure.
As soon as the bedroom door closed behind him, Isaac pounced, thrusting a controller into my hands with the enthusiasm of someone bestowing a precious gift. “Okay, so you’re Player Two, which means you get the flame sword to start with, but we can trade weapons once we find the ancient temple—”
I tried to focus on Isaac’s rapid-fire instructions, but my mind kept drifting to the closed bedroom door. To Aiden, alone in that massive king bed. To what had happened the last time we shared a bed.
“Haru! You just walked off a cliff!” Isaac’s indignant voice snapped me back to reality. “That was our last shared life!”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, fumbling with the controls. “Still learning.”
“Here, let me show you.” Mason slid closer, his hands covering mine on the controller. “You need to use the jump button when you see the edge coming up.”
His proximity was suddenly overwhelming—cologne, warmth, the brush of his breath against my ear as he explained something about combo moves. I glanced up to find Noah watching us with an intensity that seemed excessive for someone supposedly focused on his phone.
“Maybe I should just watch for a while,” I suggested, trying to extract myself from Mason’s helpful demonstration. “Get a feel for the gameplay first.”
“But that’s no fun,” Isaac pouted. “It’s a co-op game. You need a co-op partner. That’s literally the whole point.”
“I’ll play a round,” Noah offered unexpectedly, setting his phone down. “Haru can take notes on my superior strategy.”
“Superior strategy?” Isaac scoffed. “Last time you played with me, you tried to negotiate a peace treaty with the zombie horde!”
“A tactical approach is still a strategy,” Noah defended, sliding onto the floor next to Isaac and accepting the controller I gratefully relinquished.
I sank back into the couch, relief washing over me. As much as I loved Isaac, my brain was too fried to process gaming instructions right now. My eyes kept drifting to the closed bedroom door, my thoughts to the person behind it.
Mason shifted beside me, somehow still close despite the extra space now available on the couch. “Not much of a gamer?” he asked, his voice pitched low enough that the others couldn’t hear over Isaac’s enthusiastic shouting at the screen.
“Not when I’m half asleep,” I admitted. “Isaac’s energy level is... a lot.”
Reo appeared with a fresh round of drinks. “Enjoying the brotherly bonding?” he asked, his knowing smirk firmly in place as he handed me another blue concoction.
“Isaac is one button-mash away from having an aneurysm,” I said as Isaac yelled something about combo multipliers at a stoic Noah. “And I’m about three blinks away from passing out.”
“Yet here you sit,” Reo noted, his eyes flickering meaningfully toward the master bedroom door, “instead of getting your beauty sleep.”
I felt my face heat up again. “Isaac wanted me to play his game.”
“Of course he did.” Reo’s smile suggested he knew exactly what was happening, which was more than I could say. “And Mason wants to share the couch with you. And Noah suddenly wants to play video games he normally considers ‘mindless entertainment for the intellectually unchallenged.’ How convenient.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
Reo just laughed, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Nothing at all, little brother. Nothing at all.”
The evening stretched on, one activity bleeding into another. Isaac’s game session transitioned into another movie—something with car chases that Noah described as “cinematically bankrupt” but watched anyway. Mason kept up a steady supply of snacks from Isaac’s dessert boxes. Even Reo stuck around, though he spent most of his time typing on his phone with the occasional amused glance at the rest of us.
I fought valiantly against sleep, but it was a losing battle. The day’s exhaustion, combined with the food coma and the darkened room, was too powerful an opponent. My eyelids grew heavier with each passing minute, my head nodding forward only to jerk back up when I caught myself drifting off.
“Just rest,” Mason murmured beside me, his voice a low rumble. “No one will judge you for falling asleep during this cinematic travesty.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, even as I failed to suppress another yawn. “Just resting my eyes.”
“Sure you are,” he chuckled, but his voice sounded distant, like he was speaking from the other end of a long tunnel.
The last thing I remember with any clarity was the sound of tires screeching on screen, Isaac’s excited commentary about the physics-defying stunt, and the strange weight of eyes watching me as I finally surrendered to exhaustion.
I had a vague impression, sometime later, of being lifted—strong arms under my knees and around my shoulders, the solid warmth of a chest against my cheek. I should have been alarmed, but in my sleep-addled state, it felt safe. Familiar.
“I’ve got you,” a voice murmured, so softly I might have dreamed it.
I wanted to ask where we were going, to protest that I could walk on my own, but unconsciousness was already reclaiming me, pulling me back under its peaceful waves.
My last fleeting thought before darkness took me completely was that I’d never found out who won the zombie dragon battle—and that I didn’t care in the slightest.
The dream came in fragments, disjointed yet familiar—like memories that belonged to someone else but somehow lived in my bones.
Cherry blossoms falling around a shrine, their sweet scent mingling with incense. A golden dragon curled protectively around a figure in white robes. My figure? No, someone else’s. Someone who was me, but not me.
A silver wolf prowling the perimeter, yellow eyes scanning for threats, fierce and territorial. A white snake coiled nearby, patient and watchful. A black cat lounging in the sun, lazily blinking.
“The shrine maiden brings fortune,” a voice whispered, ancient and knowing. “The guardians bring protection. One cannot exist without the others.”
I jolted awake, the dream clinging to me like last night’s bad decisions, my heart racing like it was trying to qualify for the Olympics. For a moment, I had no idea where I was. The darkness was absolute, the bed beneath me unfamiliar—too soft, too luxurious to be my converted closet-bedroom back home.
Vegas. The Bellagio. Right.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I became aware of a presence beside me. Not just beside me—practically on top of me. Someone breathing deeply, steadily. Someone whose arms were wrapped around me like steel bands, whose legs were tangled with mine in a human pretzel formation that would make yoga instructors jealous.
This wasn’t Aiden.
The realization hit me with the subtlety of a brick to the face. The scent was different—clean sweat and expensive cologne. The breathing pattern was different too, deeper and more measured. And Aiden, for all his protective tendencies, never slept wrapped around me like a boa constrictor having separation anxiety.
I shifted, trying to create even a millimeter of space between us. The arms tightened instantly, locking me in place like I’d triggered some kind of security system.
“Stop squirming,” a voice rumbled directly into my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine that I immediately filed under ‘Things To Deny Until My Dying Day.’
Noah. I was in bed with Noah. Noah “Everything Must Be Organized” Davis. Noah “Don’t Touch My Stuff” Davis. Noah “Personal Space Is Sacred” Davis.
“What the actual hell?” I hissed, renewing my escape efforts with the desperation of someone who’d just realized they were sharing a sleeping bag with a grizzly bear. “Let go of me!”
“No.” The single word was infused with the kind of authority that usually preceded one of his legendary lectures on proper dishwasher loading techniques. His arms tightened further, somehow pulling me even closer against his chest, which—holy crap—felt like it was carved from marble.
“This isn’t funny, Noah,” I whispered furiously, very aware that we were in a hotel suite with four other brothers who didn’t need front-row seats to whatever bizarre scenario I’d woken up in. “I’m supposed to be in Aiden’s room. You know, where I was assigned to sleep? By me? In that whole conversation we had earlier?”
“You fell asleep on the couch,” he replied, his breath hot against my neck. “I carried you here. It was closer.”
“Closer? Your room is literally the furthest from the living room!” I knew the layout of our suite, and Noah’s room was definitely not on the way to the master suite. “And why am I in your bed instead of, I don’t know, my actual assigned bed?”
“Aiden has an early meeting. I didn’t want to disturb him.”
Oh, how thoughtful. Saint Noah, always considering others. And definitely not being a territorial jerk about the sleeping arrangements we’d already settled.
“Well, I’m awake now,” I pointed out, still struggling against his octopus grip. “So I’ll just head back to where I’m supposed to be and—”
“It’s three in the morning,” he cut me off, his voice dropping to that dangerously low register that usually preceded someone (usually me) getting into trouble. “You’re staying here.”
“You can’t just decide that for me!” I protested, indignation temporarily overwhelming my confusion about why my heart was racing in a way that had nothing to do with anger. “I’m not a child, Noah.”
“Then stop acting like one,” he growled, his lips so close to my ear that I could feel them move. “You’ll wake everyone up with your tantrum, and then we’ll have to explain why you’re sneaking out of my room in the middle of the night. Is that what you want?”
Well, when he put it that way...
Despite my frustration, I couldn’t help noticing how... secure I felt in Noah’s arms. It was annoying as hell, but also oddly familiar—a throwback to those nights after Mom and Stepdad died, when I’d wake up gasping from nightmares and Noah would let me crawl into his bed without a single snarky comment. Back then, his presence had been the only thing that could quiet the anxiety enough for me to sleep.
This was different, though. I wasn’t child anymore, seeking comfort from bad dreams. I was nineteen, and the racing of my heart had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way Noah’s body felt pressed against mine.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I muttered, trying to ignore how the heat of his palm seemed to burn through my thin t-shirt. “Like, extremely weird. Even for our dysfunctional family standards.”
“Is it?” His voice had that edge again, the one that made my stomach perform acrobatics that would impress Olympic judges. “We used to share beds all the time.”
“Yeah, when I was nine and had nightmares,” I shot back, though the reminder had already softened my resistance. “Not when I’m nineteen and trying to figure out why you’ve suddenly developed an allergy to personal space.”
Noah was quiet for a moment, his breath steady against my neck. Then, just as I thought he might have fallen back asleep, he spoke.
“You smell different here.”
I froze. “Huh?”
“Your scent,” he clarified, his voice oddly intent for three a.m. “It’s stronger in Vegas. I noticed it when I carried you.”
A strange shiver ran down my spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the way his fingers were absently tracing patterns on my arm. Nope. Nothing at all.
“That’s not creepy at all,” I said, aiming for sarcasm but landing somewhere closer to breathless. Why was my voice doing that? And why was my skin suddenly hypersensitive to every point where we touched? “Do you often go around sniffing people, or am I just special?”
“You’ve always had a distinctive scent,” he continued, ignoring my attempt at deflection. “Like honey and cherry blossoms. And something else. Something that’s just... you.”
“Okay, you’ve officially crossed from weird to serial-killer territory,” I informed him, trying to ignore the goosebumps rising on my arms. “Next you’ll be telling me you collect locks of my hair while I sleep.”
Noah huffed what might have been a laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest and directly into my back. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Says the guy who kidnapped me in my sleep and is now describing how I smell like he’s writing poetry about it.”
His hand moved from my arm to my waist, fingers curling possessively against my hip. The touch sent a jolt through me, hot and electric and completely inappropriate given who was touching me and where we were.
“Noah,” I managed, my voice embarrassingly unsteady. “What are you doing?”
“Keeping you where you belong,” he murmured, the words so low I almost didn’t catch them.
Where I belonged? What the hell did that mean? Since when did Noah Davis, Mr. Rules-and-Schedules himself, decide that I belonged anywhere other than where we’d all agreed I would sleep?
I should be angry. I should be fighting harder to get away. I should be freaking out about what Aiden would think when he woke up to find me missing. I should not be noticing how good Noah smelled, or how the solid warmth of his body felt against mine, or how the rough pad of his thumb was now tracing lazy circles on my hip bone through my thin sleep shirt.
And yet, beneath the confusion and irritation, there was something else—a sense of security, of rightness that made no logical sense. Like some part of me recognized this, remembered this, even though Noah and I had never been physically close like this as adults.
“Just go back to sleep,” Noah said, his voice softening slightly. “We can argue about this in the morning.”
“That’s your solution to everything, isn’t it? ‘Go to sleep, Haru.’ ‘Eat your vegetables, Haru.’ ‘Stop leaving your socks on the bathroom floor, Haru.’” I mimicked his authoritative tone, though the fight had already drained out of me. The warmth of the bed, the solid security of Noah’s arms, and the lingering exhaustion were conspiring against my indignation. “You’re such a control freak.”
“And you’re exhausted,” he countered, his thumb still tracing those maddening circles on my hip. “Sleep.”
I wanted to argue more, but my eyelids were already growing heavy, my body relaxing traitorously into his warmth.
“We’re not done with this conversation,” I mumbled, even as sleep began to reclaim me. “And you’re still a jerk.”
The last thing I registered before drifting off was what might have been a chuckle from Noah, the sound unexpectedly warm and rich, vibrating through his chest and into mine.
“Whatever you say, Haru.”
Something soft brushed against my cheek, feather-light and warm. Then again, against the corner of my mouth. In my half-asleep state, I couldn’t tell if it was part of a dream or reality—a gentle pressure, there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it. The lingering sensation of... lips?
I stirred, consciousness returning in slow waves, but the sensation was already fading, slipping away like water through my fingers. By the time I managed to open my eyes, squinting against the morning light filtering through the curtains, I was alone in the bed.
For a moment, I lay there disoriented, trying to piece together where I was and how I’d gotten there. The events of the night before slowly filtered back—falling asleep on the couch, waking up in Noah’s arms, our whispered argument in the darkness. Had he really kissed me? Or had that been part of my dream, fragments of shrine maidens and guardians bleeding into reality?
The sound of voices from the main area of the suite pulled me fully awake. I pushed myself up, wincing as my muscles protested. The clock on the nightstand read eight thirty a.m.—early by my standards but practically mid-day for the control freaks I lived with.
I paused at the door, suddenly aware that I was about to walk into what was likely an extremely awkward situation. How exactly did one casually greet the stepbrother they were supposed to have shared a bed with after spending the night with a different stepbrother instead?
Maybe I could just hide in here until everyone left for the day. Or fake a sudden illness. Or climb out the window and start a new life in Vegas. All solid options.
With a resigned sigh, I pulled the door open and padded out to face whatever awaited me. The scene in the kitchen area stopped me in my tracks.
Aiden, Noah, and Mason stood in a triangle formation that practically crackled with tension, each holding a coffee mug like it might double as a weapon if necessary. Aiden was already dressed in a tailored suit, looking every inch the successful businessman—except for the dangerous glint in his eyes as he stared at Noah over the rim of his mug.
Noah, for his part, seemed perfectly relaxed in sweatpants and a t-shirt that clung to every muscle I’d felt pressed against me last night. His expression was neutral, almost bored, though there was something smug lurking at the corners of his mouth.
Mason leaned against the counter, outwardly casual but with a tightness around his eyes that suggested he was anything but. His gaze kept flicking between Aiden and Noah like he was watching a particularly high-stakes tennis match.
And there was Reo, perched on a barstool with the delighted expression of someone who’d just gotten front-row seats to the dramatic event of the season. He caught my eye as I entered, his smirk widening to demonic proportions.
“Ah, the sleeping beauty awakens,” he announced, drawing everyone’s attention to me. “Sleep well, little brother?”
The temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees as all eyes turned to me. I froze like a deer in headlights.
“Uh, morning,” I managed, my voice coming out embarrassingly rough. “Is there coffee?”
“Of course,” Aiden replied, his tone pleasant in a way that didn’t match the intensity in his eyes. “Though I was surprised to find your side of the bed empty this morning. Particularly since we agreed on the sleeping arrangements yesterday.”
And there it was. The elephant in the room, dressed in neon and doing the macarena.
“I fell asleep on the couch,” I explained, trying for casual and probably missing by a mile. “During that second movie.”
“Yes,” Aiden said, his gaze shifting to Noah with laser-like focus. “Noah mentioned that when I asked. He also mentioned that he took it upon himself to relocate you to his room instead of ours.”
Noah shrugged, the picture of unconcern though the challenging glint in his eyes told a different story. “You had an early meeting. Didn’t want to disturb your sleep.”
“How considerate,” Aiden replied, the words coated in enough frost to freeze hell over twice.
“I thought so,” Noah agreed, taking a deliberate sip of his coffee.
The tension between them was so thick you could have cut it with a knife, served it on a plate, and called it breakfast. Mason watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, his knuckles white around his mug. Reo looked like he was mentally taking notes for the memoir he would inevitably write about our dysfunctional family.
“Well, this is awkward,” I said, because apparently my self-preservation instinct had decided to take the morning off. “Anyone seen Isaac?”
“Still sleeping,” Mason replied, his voice tighter than usual. “He finished an entire box of desserts before finally passing out around four a.m.”
“I need to get going,” Aiden said, setting his mug down. “Conference starts at nine.” He crossed to where I stood, still frozen in the doorway, and ruffled my hair with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the edge in his next words. “Be sure to sleep in our bed tonight, Haru. I’d hate to find you... misplaced again.”
The possessive note in his voice sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. Before I could formulate a response, he was already heading for the door, suit jacket slung casually over one shoulder, every inch the successful businessman off to conquer the world.
“Have a productive day, dear,” Reo called after him, earning a glare that would have withered lesser men.
The door closed behind Aiden with a decisive click, leaving the rest of us in a silence heavy with unspoken tension.
“Well,” Reo said, raising his coffee mug in a mock toast, “that was entertaining. Anyone want to place bets on who sleeps where tonight?”
“Shut up, Reo,” Noah and Mason said in perfect unison, then glared at each other for the coincidence.
I eyed the distance to the coffee pot, calculating whether I could get there without being drawn further into whatever bizarre territorial dispute was happening. Just another normal morning in the Davis-Ono household, except with more luxury and even less personal space than usual.